


Winter Sick Day

by Angelbaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Female Sam Winchester, Gen, Semi-incestuous but also maybe just really close siblings, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelbaby/pseuds/Angelbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a case of the winter sniffles, Dean is a high school drop out and Dad is absent (like always)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Sick Day

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" Dean asks. It is a icy winter Wednesday and he is a nineteen year old high school drop out, idly flipping through the channels on the tv, searching for something to hold his interest. He looks up at Sam, who has quietly slouched downstairs to flop down on the opposite end of the couch. "Not that I really care if you're skipping or not. Actually, it's kinda nice to see that you have a rebellious side after all, Sammy."

She glares daggers at him. "I'm sick." As if to prove her point, Sam coughs, a hacking, wet sound that is most certainly not faked. "Anyways, it's a Wednesday. Everyone hates Wednesdays, even the teachers. They never teach anything. I'll be fine."

Dean shrugs, because he doesn't really know enough about the situation to either argue or agree or even really care. "Kinda proves my point about you being such a nerd that you know that though." He replies

Sam weakly hits him with a pillow, then sniffles. "Dude, when three different teachers let us watch movies every Wednesday for a month I think it is pretty safe to say there's a pattern that even an idiot could figure out. I mean, you probably couldn't, but..." He doesn't even have to look to know she's wearing her trademark bitch smirk. In response, Dean reaches over and gives a lock of her hair a short, sharp tug. She kicks him with her freakishly long legs. He punches her in the ribs. "Ow! Knock it off, or I'll cough on you."

"There's a real threat. Anyways, you started it."

"Did not!"

"Did too, Sammy. I don't need a high school diploma to figure out you made the first insult, although let's be honest, it was pretty pathetic."

Sam stands up and sends Dean a look of deep disgust. "I am going to make myself some tea." She announces and flounces off the kitchenette.

"Hey, while you're at it, make me a sandwich." Dean calls. He gets no response, but he wasn't really expecting one, because speaking of pathetic insults, that was a pretty bad one.

Ten minutes later, when Dean is zoning out to an infomercial about a BeDAZZLEr, Sam returns, gripping a mug in her hand. She slumps back down into her original seat and takes a loud slurp of her tea. There is a moment of silence, then, "Give me the remote right now."

"Excuse you! What's the magic word?"

"Give me the remote right now please or I'll pour this tea on your head."

"That is not the way to get what you want, sugar doll."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you actually thinking of ordering a bedazzler, Deanna?"

"If you don't like what in watching, feel free to go back upstairs."

"It's freezing in our room. My toes were starting to turn blue! I'm supposed to be getting better. You can't recover from a cold if you are about to lose your toes to hypothermia!" Sam whines, shaking a loose strand of hair out of her face.

Wordlessly, Dean moves his arm and makes space for her, eyes still fixed on the tv. Sam slides down towards his end of the couch and curls up against his side, placing her tea on the floor near his feet. He pulls a blanket down from where it was folded on top of the couch and spreads it out across her. This is all done without any thought, without acknowledge that is it happening.

On long car trips that stretch into the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning, Sam slumps against Dean, her head slipping down his shoulder as the empty vastness country and forest speeds past the window. When staying in seedy motels, when John Winchester doesn't stop to consider that maybe his teenage son and daughter don't like to sleep in the same bed, when Sam and Dean are too used to such a situation to question it, Dean pulls his younger sister against him, one arm slung across her chest. Because if the unthinkable should ever happen, and a demon sneak into the room, he'll have one arm already there to push his sister out of the way (to safety, out of the monster's reach) and the other pulling out silver knife he always keeps under his pillow.

And Sam knows that this isn't how siblings are supposed to be. That normal brothers and sisters don't sleep in the same bed, snuggling together against the cold. But then again, normal people don't travel cross-country hunting shadows and whispers of wind you hear only at night. Normal people don't attend fifteen different high schools in a year. She curses her oddness, her unusual family, her father's bizarre profession, pretends to fit in, pretends to be just like the rest.

But she's not normal, and sometimes it seems pointless to pretend that she is. Anyways, Sam doesn't really mind sharing a bed with Dean, because she's been doing that all her life and it would be strange to stop. She's never needed a security blanket or a special, favorite stuffed animal. Not when Dean has always been there, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that calms her fears after a nightmare, his breath slow and warm on the back on her neck.

The two Winchesters watch the infomercial for a minute more or so, until Sam grabs the remote from Dean's lax hand and firmly, decisively changes the channel. "I'm sick, I should get to pick out what we watch." She says, propping herself up on Dean's leg.

Dean rolls his eyes. "I can't wait until you're well again and can't use the sick excuse to get what you want." He replies, and shifts his weight, trying to free his leg from Sam's bony elbow.

"Yeah, but until then I get to pick what we watch." She says, as if that settles it. Dean flicks her in the back.

"Spoiled brat." He mumbles, but all gentle tease and no spite. After all, he's the one who contributed the most to pampering Sam and giving into her every whim. Dean's a sucker for his younger sister; he just can't say no to her.

She flicks through the channels, pausing every so often on something that looks interesting. Dean shoots most of it down. "No cop shows. Nothing about girls on high school, or anyone in high school, actually. Nix to paranormal crap." They are currently in the middle of nowhere. Staying in the summer cottage that belongs to one of Dad's friends which is being lent to them in exchange for a little exorcism on the ghost living in the basement who made herself violently apparent last summer. She's gone now, which means Dad will probably be packing up the car to move on in the next couple days or so. But in the mean time, Sam and Dean make the most out of staying in an actual house. It's a rare luxury for them.

Sam finally stops on a showing of the 1979 Alien movie. She half turns to Dean, seeking his approval. The movie hasn't gotten to the good part yet, where aliens are exploding out of people's stomachs and chasing hot babes all over the space ship. Deans shrugs. "Fine by me." And Sam smiles, turns the volume up, and settles back against him. She's almost as tall as him now, which is extremely disconcerting. Dean remembers when Sam was so small, so short that he could pick her up and carry her around with just one arm.

Dad used to say "Look after your little sister, Dean." But when Sam started growing, shooting up on legs that seemed to extend by an inch every day, she would give anyone who called her little the mother of all death stares. So he switched to saying "Look after your younger sister, Dean."

Now, Dean's younger sister coughs twice, and reaches for her tea. She has curled in so close to him that he can feel the way each cough makes her body shake. "How long do you think we're going to stay here?" She asks. The "I don't want to leave" part is unspoken, but they both know is there.

"I dunno. We got rid of the ghost. Well, Dad did, but without it, we don't really have a reason to stick around."

Sam sighs, a soft, unhappy sound. Automatically, Dean reached up and runs a hand through Sam's hair. She doesn't say anything else, and neither does he. They just sit together, limbs intertwined and let the movie play. Outside, snow is falling and creating great white drifts along the road. Outside there are monsters and a father who would rather be around demons than his own children. Outside the world is a scary, dangerous place.

But inside the house doesn't seem, right now, like such a bad place.


End file.
